


Strider's Lullabye

by trickstersGambit



Series: Asteroidstuck [4]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Asteroidstuck, Explicit Language, Foul Language, Human Karkat, Mute Dave, Mute Dave Strider, Other, Species Swap, Warm Fuzzies, bro is a good dad, tumblr asteroidstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-07-05
Packaged: 2017-10-29 20:51:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trickstersGambit/pseuds/trickstersGambit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard Strider(often called 'Dick') was seventeen when Dave was dropped into his lap. He didn't know what he was doing, but he damned well did his best. This is his story. Part of tumblr's Asteroidstuck AU. Co-plotted by omgwtfkitteh on tumblr. (project started in November, pre name reveal) This fic has been discontinued. I'm sorry to the people who were excited for it. I do hope you'll forgive me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [omgwtfkitteh](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=omgwtfkitteh).



> I moved the publication date to the 22 of June because this is being swamped under a flood of fics(what have you guys done to AO3? For shame!) Before new readers make comments on Lullaby, note: Lullaby was written for a project that started in November of 2011, at which time Dirk Strider was not yet Dirk Strider, so his name was up for guessing. My cowriter, omgwtfkitteh, and myself, agreed that 'Dick', aka Richard, was a perfect name for him. After the reveal, we decided we'd stick with the name, and fuck the police.  
> That said, please enjoy act 1 of Beta kid's Asteroidstuck; Strider's Lullaby.

My first memory, in the beta session, was being, perhaps one? I was tiny, I knew that much. Jane was so TALL, and old, and familiar. I knew who she was immediately. Her thirty year old son was at her side. She was seventy something. Wrinkled, hunched, maybe a little overweight. She’d crooned like a proud grandma, scooped me up and declared I was going home with her and forget the dog-gone foster home. She’d placed sunglasses on my ever-watering, pained eyes, scooped me up, kissed my head, and told me everything would be alright.

“Janie’s got you, little Strider.” she giggled. She outright giggled at me. “I’ve got to be loads better than Dave, right?”

I remember the look my face had contorted to, and the horror I’d felt that I’d let my face do that. I was too small to tell her that her voice was irritating in that tone. Too small to ask ‘Where’s Jake’ or ‘where’s Lalonde’ and ‘I want my equipment.’

Her grin stayed with me.

“hee hee, hoo hoo. You know, Jakey will be pleased as plum-punch that we found you, Dickey.” she giggled in that annoying, but strangely reassuring way, and carried me away. “Saul, this is Richard, Richard, this is saul.”

“Mother, he’s an infant. He can’t possibly understand you.” Saul frowned, and I looked at him. I hated him already. He was the same Saul that had raised Jane in our session, and I had no doubt that he’d protect the kid well enough when his time came, but I hated him.

“of course he can. Don’t be a dumby, Saul. He’s plenty smart, the smartest kid I ever did know.”

“That’s-”

“Don’t sass me, Saul.

Jane gave me the best childhood she possibly could, for the seven years she had me. I developed hero worship for her. She was…well…she was a good prankster, best mom. I don’t know. Whatever. Seven years, then she started to get sick. Saul banished Lalonde to her mansion, and shipped me out to the foster care system in Texas. I hated that man.

I hated him more when he sent me a letter, well, a cheerful card, on my twelvth birthday with a simple message:

DICK-  
JANE’S IN THE HOSPITAL.  
HAPPY BIRTHDAY  
-SAUL

That's just... I would throttle that man, if we didn’t need him.

I was seventeen when the kid crashed to earth, right into my part-time job. Serendipitous, I guess. The tiny little guy was perched on a dead horse. I didn’t want to think about the implications. I just knew he was there, and I had to take care of him. I’d applied for emancipation when I turned sixteen, and it’d been granted to me two months before the kid crashed. Perfect, right?

“Alright little dude.” I tried not to coo at him. There was something irrevocably un-cool about cooing. Nana, no, Jane. She was Jane. Jane had cooed at me, now I was cooing at the kid. Little strider. Little Dave Jake Strider. It sounded right, to me. “Little dude, we’re going to take the horse you so graciously brought to your gate-crashing that is the party-life of Dick Strider. I guess it’s not a gate crashing, is it, when you expect the person?” Jane insisted that they’d be fully aware soon enough. Well, I could hope.

I captcha’d the horse and took the kid home.

I did my best, the boy cried and cried and no matter what I did(Diaper? No. Food? No. Water? No. How about a funny face? No. Ok, I’m holding you and THAT isn’t even working. WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO, DAVE.) I couldn’t get him to stop crying. I took him to the emergency room, they said he was fine.

“I need…I need Janey…or…” I sighed, bouncing Dave gently, all the curtains pulled. All the windows tinted, sunblock on him. It wasn’t working. I tried everything.

Apparently one of the neighbours got fed up with the kids sobbing or something, because social workers showed up.

They took my little man away, accused me of being a bad parent. I couldn’t disagree on that, but I was doing my damnedest wasn’t I? I had to go to court. They were making me go to court.

I called the one responsible adult I knew that hadn’t tried to break me when I was coming up.

“Saul?”

“Strider. How goes it?”

“They took my kid.”

“They as in…?”

“UGH Social services! They’re going to put him in the system! What do I do? What did Janey do to get me?”

“If social services took him you probably deserved it, Strider.”

“Saul don’t. I didn’t DO anything though! I’m not some ne’er do well. Jane brought me up better than that.”

“The law says differently, Strider.”

“FUCK If Lalonde would pay for my plane ticket I’d fly up there with the singular purpose of introducing my fist and your nose in the most PAINFUL way possible. Son of my friend or not, I will end you if you keep it up.”

“It’s talk like that that got Dave taken from you.”

“No. it’s talk like that that wasn’t happening for three months since I got him. I’ve been saintly. The Vatican itself would have invited me to visit with the pope so he could congratulate me for the massive amount of patience I’ve been exhibiting. You may not have had the time to take care of kids at twenty nine but I’m willing to step up to bat at seventeen. Who’s the bigger man in this position, Solomon Egbert?” he snapped, growling into the phone.

“And Strider has lost the last of his cool.”

“Saul, just tell me what I need to do to get him back. Just…Walk me through the exact reverse of what you did to have me committed.” he rubbed his forehead, tempted to just start smacking his head into the desk in front of him.

“Let’s talk about the state of your living arrangements.”

“Not the time.”

“It effects how they view you, Dick.”

“I don’t even have energy to turn that into innuendo. Do you see how stressed out I am over this? Do you know I haven’t gotten a nights sleep in about three months?”

“Your house, Dick.”

“UGH Ok. It’s a house, right? It’s got a room, a kitchen, a living room, a couple of closets, and a bathroom. Fridge, freezer, oven, microwave, blender, mixing tables I bought SPECIFICALLY for him, about a year ago. Television, video games, computer, robotics pa-”

“Robotics. Exposed circuitry, wiring and sharp metal edges.”

“Fuck you Saul. Yes. Exposed shit.”

“Remove that. Take parenting classes, give the kid the room. Jesus, it’s not hard, Strider.”

“Fine. Fine. Now will you come down here and double check when I clear up all the robotics crap and put in some kid-safe what-evers?”

“You sound desperate.”

“You try having your little brother snatched out of your hands by uncaring, unseeing, seething, blood thirsty morons out to make everyone in the universe appear to be a bad parent.”

“Alright. Alright, I get it. I’ll give you a month.”

A month came, the month passed, and Saul never showed up. I was pissed, but I put my strider face on.

The court date came, and I made his way into the room with a deep breath, and a controlled expression, looking evenly at the social worker, giving her a slight, curt nod.

The ruling came. Complete and utter bullshit. I couldn’t have Dave back until after my eighteenth birthday. DECEMBER. I had to wait for December to regain my charge, my ecto-brother.

I took parenting classes. I opened a little shop downstairs, computer repair, with Lalonde’s co-sign (you don’t know what favour I had to trade her to get that.) and I waited. I waited and forced myself to pretend I didn’t have anxiety over the situation.

FINALLY December came, and I stepped into the court room. Custody was returned to me. I couldn’t relax yet. I couldn’t relax until I had Dave back.  
He was outside the court room, red eyes squinting in the onslaught of sunlight boring it’s way through the windows. My hand reached to my pocket and I pulled a pair of tiny sunglasses, placing them back on his face where they belonged.

“Hey there little dude.” His face turned toward me, and his mouth opened, like he wanted to scream, or cry, make some kind of noise, but nothing came. Anxiety wound up into me again. “What did you DO to him?” I stared at the social worker, and the foster-care woman who held my albino brother, accusation seeping into my words as I took Dave from them like he was precious glass.

“He just stopped screaming one day…”

“And you morons didn’t QUESTION it? He’s screamed and cried every day since he was born. He wouldn’t just stop on a whim, and he wouldn’t just stay quiet.” I was hoping the screaming meant he wasn’t going to have to pick up sign language. I hoped he’d speak. I hoped I’d hear his voice. I’d hoped I’d be able to hold a vocal conversation with him.

“We thought there wasn’t anything wrong with him. We thought he’d just settled down, like any other colicky baby.”  
I glared at her, flicked my glasses down, stripped off my shirt and draped it over Dave. If these fools were going to act as though his SCREAMING and sudden stop was perfectly normal, they wouldn’t have thought anything of putting sunscreen or sun glasses on the poor kid. I hadn’t planned on making his life hell until he was at least eight. You don’t torture a defenceless infant. Even I knew that, and I was possibly the shittiest guardian of all four of us-strike that. That was still Lalonde.

“Fuck off, the lot of you. We don’t need a babysitter. I got this.” I strode out. Striders gonna stride. Dave would appreciate the pun when he was older. “I learned a lullaby for you, little dude. The teachers at those damned classes said it was important. What do you think?” I asked, walking out of the court building, down the block to the (admittedly shitty) car I’d bought.

Once he was in the seat, I crawled into the driver’s seat, looking at the nearly one-year-old, reaching back to brush his hair straight, the way he’d liked it when I was a kid, then pulled the blanket covered handle up, protecting him from the light.

“this is just for a while, little dude, just until I can tint the windows.” I waited, hopefully, for a sound. An acknowledgement. Something.

When nothing came, so I started the car, carefully, pulled into traffic, carefully, and followed the flow(obeying all the laws and rules) and got to the apartment through the mid-day traffic without shouting long strings of obscenities at the other drivers.

Admirable.

Good parent.

Best bro.

Have I overused that meme yet?

I climbed every flight of stairs up to our shitty apartment(carefully redecorated, child-proofed and very fatherly. Very. Fatherly. )

I set the carrier on the floor and pulled the blanket back, faced with the tear-streaked face of my little dude. I felt like the worst parent ever as I unsnapped him from the seat, lifting him up.

“Shoosh shoosh” I whispered, patting his back comfortingly. “Only lullabies now.” I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Hush-a-bye, don’t you cry, gooo to sleeep-y little bay-bee. When you wake, you shall have, all the pretty little ponies.” he’d appreciate the irony, one day, maybe. “Blacks, and bays, dappled and grays, coach and six white horses, gooo to sleeep-y little bay-beee.” my fingers brushed through his hair, and I watched his face. I was going to have to do that forever, now. I’d have to study his expressions and learn what he needed that way. It was going to be so much different than the last session. I was the sensei, he was the student.

“Twinkle twinkle, little star, how I wonder, what you are. Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky.” he stirred, I frowned. “You’re right. It’s more like a citrine or an emerald…” Did they know what was going on, when they were infants?

“When the blazing sun is gone, when he nothing shines upon… then you show your little light.” the song turned to a whisper, a soft hum. He was sleeping… “Twinkle, twinkle, through the night…Then the travl’r in the dark thanks you for your tiny spark. He could not see which way to go, if you did not twinkle so.—Yeah, you‘re pretty much giving me a meaning here…” my lips quirked in a smile. “In the dark-blue sky you keep, and often through my curtains peek—oh god little dude, never do that. That’s just freaky, Dave. For you never shut your eye-no, you’re shutting your eyes as often as you can, dude. You’re getting your shut eye if I have to get you a sleep-mask… and you’d damned well better be asleep when the sun rises because we’re not nocturnal here…As your bright and tiny spark, lights the travl’r in the dark thanks you for your tiny spark, though I know not what you are-ok that line’s just not true, we’re going to have to re-write this piece of shit… Though I know not what you are, twinkle twinkle, little star.”

I remembered Jane singing it to me after my first nightmare. It was comforting, for me, at least. I don’t know about him, but it was making me feel a bit more peaceful…

After my nineteenth, and Dave’s second, six weeks of coding whenever Dave was sleeping, I was putting my plan into action, finally. I hunted down Jake’s screen name, wracking my brain to see if I could remember those little details.

I’m a genius. I’m too smart to forget the fine details.

“Fuck. Fuck yes.” I sighed in relief, looking at the dark green text on my screen. It was time to see if he could effect the universe.

Five came fast. I took the kid to school, he came home from school demanding why kids were cruel. I put him to bed with a lullaby, letting him have his sunshine and rainbows. When he fell asleep, I attacked the computer with vehemence. I talked to Alpha-Dave. I told him that kids were cruel, I told him that I didn’t want him to be upset about it. I asked him to try to remember.

He told me to take a chill pill and put the strider face back on.

I told him to go fuck himself and switched to Jake.

It didn’t work. The time still came when I had to stop helping.

I watched as Dave tossed the shades I’d given the boy years ago.

It wouldn’t be long now, and Dave would be in the Game.

The game that had stolen my best friend from him, leaving him stranded with Jane, and Roan, and that asshole, Saul.

The asshole who’d abandoned him to the foster care system when I was seven, when Jane started to get too weak to take care of Dick and Roan.

Saul was raising the Ectobaby that came from Jane and Jake, and I wished, more than anything, that I could have had him instead of Saul. I’d raise both of them, Dave and Kaat, prepare them for the game, make them both strong enough to beat it once and for all.

It couldn’t be like that though. They had to let them come together on their own. Exchange their sentimental gifts. Make the bonds that would keep them strong in the Game, the same bonds that held the four of my friends together in their session.

I hadn’t spoken to Jake since Dave was two. I’d spent every free moment immersed in the computer, making sure the connection stayed open, obsessively monitoring my friends in the other universe, slipping hints to himself, hoping that I could change it so none of the kids would have to fight this time, praying that I could just stop the whole session all together and go back to trying not to laugh at Jane’s dumb jokes, cringing at Lalonde’s come-ons, pining for Jake in the worst, most stoic of ways.

Failing that, I prayed that maybe I could bring Jake and Jane back. I’d even take them as eighty or ninety year olds. Anything that wouldn’t leave him alone. Lalonde had left him behind, too. Burrying herself in her work, and hassling her kid, and her alcoholism.

All I could do now was train Dave and hope I got it right. I didn’t even have time to open the old connection and see if Jake was back from the game. If I COULD come back from the game. My memories perished at the end of the game, and started again, where they'd left off, when I was taken up from the orphanage, picked up by the kind, smiling older woman and her bright blue eyes.

“I miss you guys. I’ll take care of them… I promise. I’ll do you proud.”

The asteroid came. My anxiety kicked in. Dave couldn’t die before the game got started.

My blade sliced through it. If I’d been relaxed it would have felt like I was trying to cut through steel with a butter knife.

It split in two.

The game ran on. The slimey black creature-the final boss, attempted to kill Jake's look-alike(it was the nose, the jaw, the shape of the ears, the bright-fucking-red hair. I’d seen the kid.). Kaat. Kaat, who is little dude’s best friend. John who is to Dave as Jake had been to me. Well, I assume. I could always ask later, right?

I step in front of his blade, I engage in battle, and little dude…

Little dude is there… Let’s see what he can do…  
————————————————————————————————————-  
Twinkle, Twinkle, little star,  
How I wonder where you are  
Up above the world so high  
Like an ruby in the sky

When the blazing sun is gone,  
When it nothing, shines upon  
Then you shine your little light  
Twinkle, twinkle through the night

Then the travl’r in the dark,  
Thanks you for your tiny spark  
He could not see which way to go  
If you did not twinkle so

In the dark blue sky you keep  
And often through it’s curtains peek  
For you never shut your eye  
Till the sun is in the sky

As your bright and tiny spark  
Lights the travl’rs in the dark  
Though I know not how you are  
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.


	2. Strawberry is 'fuck you'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Strider raises his 'baby bro', he runs into a few complications. One of them being the realization that doctors are morons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I prefer Dick to Dirk, and this was written before D's big name reveal. I'm not feeling the idea of changing his name though out the chapter. I'm sorry to those who find it irritating.

“The surgery will fix it, potentially.”

“Potentially? You’re going to have to explain a little more. I don’t know what I can tell you other than ‘use more words, potentially expounding upon the subject .’” Dick scowled, arms crossed over his chest as Dave swung his feet, kicking a beat into the drawers under the bed. A steady, musical beat.

“There’s a possibility it won’t work.”

“How much of a possibility, Doc?”

“I don’t know exactly…”

“Have you done this before? Do you even have an idea of what will happen if it fails?” he glared harder, narrowing his eyes at the doctor, a tick working in his jaw. He’d lost patience with this woman. She was timid and fidgety. It made him wonder how she’d even gotten her job.

Or did Striders just have that effect on people.

Huh, the ‘Strider effect’. That’s another one Dave will appreciate when he’s older.

“We’ve never done it on a child his age. It would be an experiment. Right now it’s just theoretical.”

“And an experimental-slash-theoretical surgery that could, maybe, let’s say ‘kill’ David…Would you say that it’s worth the risk? In the long run, is it really worth the potential cost?”

“Something like this could be very expensive, Mister Strider.”

“I’m not talking about money. I’m talking ‘quality of life’. I’m talking about his live, the possibility of living without the kid. Are you trying to tell me that the experiment is worth the life of a kid? Can you guarantee his safety?”

“It’s worth it. I really think so.”

“Will going without it kill him?”

“Well, no… But going through it could restore his voice.”

“No, Fuck you. If it’s not going to kill him, if he’s going to be otherwise perfectly fine, then we’ll find our own work around.” She was pushing her luck.

“Richard… Please, consider the surgery. Think about the long term benefits for David and what it would mean for his future. He would have such a better life.” She gestured to Dave, who was now giving her a wary look, only sitting on the table because he hadn’t figured out the end of the song in his head, and the beat was helping him.

“No.” Dick glanced at Dave, quirking a brow at the boy, curious, as always, as to what was going on in his head. With no way of communicating, just yet, he had no idea what the three year old was doing.

“But…” Dick caught Dave glaring at the woman, baring his teeth in a very un-strider fashion.

“But nothing, we’re changing paediatricians.” he hissed. “We’re not going to be bullied into a treatment he’s just fine without.”

“But…”

Dick put his back to dave, between her and his ‘son’, staring her down with his amber eyes.

“But nothing. Dave can HEAR just fine. He can’t speak, but we’ll figure it out. Someone else can handle his ear-nose-throat issues.” he scowled, not even looking over his shoulder, giving no physical indication of what was to come. “C’mon little dude.” he made it as quiet as possible, proving his point, of course, as Dave hopped down from the table, huffing in frustration at his Bro, tapping out a new beat as he stood beside him.

“Yeah, putcher glasses back on, pull your hood, it’s still daylight out there. We’re going to go for burgers and milkshakes.” he held his hand out to the boy as the kid finished following the orders in the swift, efficient Strider way.

Dave took the hand and bro scooped him up, balancing the three year old on his hip, keeping his gaze on the woman as he made his way to the door.

“He’ll be mute his whole life, Richard.”

“Mister. Strider. And I think we’re cool with that, so long as Little dude is healthy, otherwise. Right Dave?”

Dave nodded enthusiastically, then lifted his shades to glare at the doctor a little more, his lip poking out petulantly.

“Then let’s get truckin’ munchkin.” he smirked, proud that the kid knew an asshole when he saw one. “Remember, Vanilla is one, chocolate is two, and strawberry is ‘fuck you’. You remember fuck you?”

The boy held the middle fingers of both hands up, grinning, then he presented them to the doctor.

“Hey. You don’t tell a lady ‘fuck you’. You tell her go fuck herself. What am I teaching you here, how to be a monkey?” he ruffled the kids hair, grinning proudly.

“You remember why strawberry is ‘fuck you’ right?” he questioned, walking down the hall, arms fastened around the kid as he headed for the exit. He relaxed a little when Dave nodded. They were allergic to certain things. Strawberries, shrimp, certain preservatives.

Bro thought back to the last session. To when he knew a boy with dark green eyes-the same green he dressed Dave in-the boy was allergic to peanuts. He’d sent them to him as a joke and was informed it was a rude and entirely insensitive thing to do, but thank you, the tinker bulls liked them.

He hummed thoughtfully and carried the kid to his shitty car, glancing at the boy as he buried his face in the white of Dick’s shirt. He smiled fondly, promising silently that he wouldn’t lose Dave to anything he didn’t have to.

“It’s ok, little dude. We’ll figure it all out soon enough. We’ll figure out how to make the sun your bitch.” he promised, hiking him a little higher as he fumbled for his keys, unlocking the car. Dave crawled from the elder Strider’s arms and into his seat. “we’ll walk in, is that ok, Dave?”

The boy nodded and Bro smiled approvingly, helping him with the straps to the car seat.

“You got this?” he tested the straps, quirking a brow at the kid over his shades, receiving a nod as the boy pulled his hood over his face with a grin. “Cool.” Six long steps took him to the other side of the car and he sank down into his seat, starting the car, monitoring the boy in the back seat protectively.

He would tear the stars down for that kid, even if he wasn’t capable of it.

No. All he could do was work him to a point where he could do pretty much anything he needed to do, when the time came for it. How did the session players forget their training, and the guardians remember? It struck him as incredibly unfair.

It was unfair that he didn’t have Jake to consult, or Jane to pester, and that Lalonde was too… Lalonde to be of any help.

A sigh spilled past his lips as he ran a frustrated, fingerless-gloved hand through his hair, shoving his hat off for a moment while they waited at a red.

“When you get your first friends,” he said, peering at the kid in the rear view, “you treasure those fuckers like gold. You don’t have to tell them, but you treasure them, and you protect them, got it, little knight?”

The boy nodded uncertainly, frowning. He got that look every time Bro said something like this in that warning, worried tone.

The approving nod from Bro reassured Dave, and he sank into the seat, peering at his hands thoughtfully, before poking at his throat, wondering why he had to go to the doctor so often. What was wrong with not speaking?


	3. Believe in Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of school was a day of excitement, aprehension, and fear-and that was all on Bro’s end. He knew what he was feeling, but he could also tell from the tension in Dave’s shoulders that the boy was still scared of what was to come. Kids were cruel, and if Bro was honest with himself, he was afraid for his little bro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I moved 'believe in me' to here, as a chapter, because it seems to fit into the flow nicely.

The first day of school was a day of excitement, aprehension, and fear-and that was all on Bro’s end. He knew what he was feeling, but he could also tell from the tension in Dave’s shoulders that the boy was still scared of what was to come. Kids were cruel, and if Bro was honest with himself, he was afraid for his little bro.  


Dave had been slathered with sunblock, given a long-sleeved shirt with a record on it (‘it’s a talking point, Dave. chicks will talk to you.’ ‘why would i want chicks to talk to me??’ ‘trust me. you’ll write them little love notes and they’ll be putty in your mute little hands.’ ‘ew gross bro ew’) and a muppet lunch pail (‘puppets seriously bro thats just all kinds of creepy’)  


Bro walked the kidnergardener to the school, making sure his cap was firmly in place. Hopefully with just the hat, he’d be able to avoid his eyes getting burned. Maybe.  


He could tell Dave was afraid. It was in the way he gripped his hand and refused to make any signs at him. In the way his little cherry red eyes widened at the sight of the kids milling around the school yard.  


Bro tried signing Dave’s name, tapped his shoulder, then sighed in frustration.  


“Dave, David Strider.” he crouched, lifting his anime-pointed shades off his eyes, resting them ontop of Dave’s hat. “Striders are strong. even if the other kids are assholes, you’re a Strider, and they aren’t. You’re better than they are because they don’t have a big bro to teach them all the things they need to know to be cool, got it? Not a single kid is as lucky as you, even if you can’t talk, even if you have bad dreams. AND, not a single one of them can say they have rad as fuck red eyes. You keep that in mind, Dave. Kids can be assholes, but you make them damned aware of the fact that you don’t take shit, ok?” he insisted, determined that his baby bro(baby boy, really, if he thought about it. ) would be prepared for everything, and face it with his head held high and chin tight aand firm.  


The boy nodded and hugged his bro, and got a pat on the back and a last minute check.  


 _Do you have your emergency key?_   


_yes_   


_Do you have your sunblock?_   


_yes  
_

 _You’ll remember to put it on again when the little hand is on the nine?  
_

 _yes_   


_You have the phone I got you?_   


_yes_   


_And you have minutes on it?_   


_yes bro it’s all there_   


_The emergency umbrella is in your backpack. If the cloud cover breaks, you drag that fucker out and you hide under it. You text me, and I’ll come and get you, ok?  
ok_   


_And you have my shades._   


_yeah about that why??_   


_Don’t believe in yourself. Believe in me! Bro smirked. Believe in me, who believes in you!_   


_your shitty anime references need to stop worming their way into our conversations bro seriously that stuff isn’t even ironically cool_   


_You just don’t understand the brilliance of it, little man. You’ll realize one day. Gurren Lagan is going to be a classic._

 _ill believe it when i see it._ Dave felt marginally less scared, though, lifting his chin, his red eyes meeting his brothers red-orange.  


“I believe in you, Dave. Being an anime reference doesn’t make it any less true.” he smiled, squeezing Dave’s little shoulders affectionately. “Now get over there with the rest of the squirmy wrigglers.”  


Dave made a face at him and darted off to the other kids and Bro sighed, rubbing his forehead, watching dave join the lines of kids flowing into the classrooms, dave’s jeans and long sleeves making the other kids stare. Seriously, sleeves and full length pants in the summer.  


Well, it wasn’t like it was the only disability the kid had. He’d turn it into Dave’s strength, over time. There’d be no way he’d let the kid go through life unprepared for what was coming.  
“Eight years to go. It’s an uphill climb, little man.” he said softly. He knew the storm was coming. He could smell it already, and so could she. They’d agreed a long time ago to prepare the kids in the way they needed to be trained. He’d have to start in on Dave soon. Maybe after he touched bases with Her. Yeah.  


As Dave turned to wave, signing ‘see you soon bro’, the elder nodded, ‘good luck’, then disappeared down the street. Now wasn’t time for mushy. It was time to write up lesson plans and get started on the training the little kid would need for the future. Start small, work up to big.  


God he hoped he wasn’t fucking the kid up.


	4. Striders never quit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to Kitteh for editing this chapter![and to a reader on ff.net for pointing out my inconsistency with dave's name. FIXED IT]

‘Hey, Richard...’

‘Yeah, Janie?’ God he'd been so small, perched on the old woman's lap as they watched the stars on the hood of her car, somewhere in a field in the middle of autumn.

‘You remember...anything?’ Her voice was so OLD, so uncertain. She'd seemed so sure and ready to go, when they were kids TOGETHER.

‘All of it. Every little thing, engraved on my mind like a groove in a record.’ He leaned back, looking up at her.

‘Jake is so far away. I wish he was here with us.’ Something in his chest lurched as he remembered the last time he'd seen Jake.

Old, wrinkled and grinning. He'd had an orange package in his hands and a goofy grin on his face, pulling back to reveal dentures. He'd missed everything in Jake's life, picking it up in the very end, like coming in on a movie ten minutes before the credits roll, just before the hero saves the day.

‘We've got Lalonde, and your asshole of a son.’ He motioned over to where the two of them were, both perched on the fence, giggling, inebriated. Not that that wasn't Roxy's permanent state.

‘Yeah, but I miss Jake.’ She hugged him, causing him to make a very un-Strider-like squeak.

‘Yo, Jane, love ya an' all, but ya gotta let me live to take care of my brat.’ He wriggled, poking at her sides.

‘Be a kid, Richard,’ she soothed. ‘You're only five. Enjoy your childhood a little this time.’ 

In two years he'd be gone, and he wouldn't see her anymore except on birthdays when Lalonde would spring him for a trip to Washington, bribing his foster-care bitch to let him off school with the flu or chicken pox, or whatever it was she got him out of there on. 

At that moment, yeah, she was right. Life was ok. They were watching stars in the crisp Halloween air. Other kids trick-or-treated, his family kept their eyes out for meteors, like any other weekend.

_My family._ his hands fluttered, habit, talking to the air...

‘Hmm?'

'Nothing.'

His 'mom', 'step-brother', and 'step-sister', and sometimes, even his 'uncle', gathered together ritualistically, watching the stars for the first signs of trouble.

'So we're putting you in home-school.'

'Cool.'

\----

Dave’s hands fluttered with the new sign they were learning, well, that Bro was teaching him. 

“No, more like this,” the elder coaxed, smiling when the sign came out the right way. “Beautiful.” He nodded, stringing it into a conversational sentence, watching as the boy repeated then responded.

“I want to watch cartoons,” Bro said, signing at the same time. Dave repeated the signs as usual, then responded:

_What the actual fuck? No_

Bro laughed. He was learning. Dave was picking it up fast, adding his own flourish to the language, making it ‘him’ without Dick’s prompting.

“Well fine. How about we play games?”

_Spyro?_

“Lame, but ok. Pizza?”

_Pepperoni_

Richard was proud of his little brother and his growing vocabulary. There was no way in HELL Solomon's kid was this smart. Absolutely no way.

"You have school in the morning. Go get your pajamas on. I'll let you stay up for an hour after dinner, we'll play a game together, but then you HAVE to go to bed."

_Do I have to? I hate school._

"Yep. Striders aren't quitters. Hate it or not, it's your responsibility to the Strider name to plow through." He crossed his arms, peering down at Dave through the lenses of his anime glasses. 

\--

The next day Dick took Dave to school, dropping him off at the front, waiting for the boy to disappear behind the doors before he returned to his shop.

The door swung open in front of him a split second after he turned the key. His tennis shoes smacked on the cork floor, turning around the counter. His chair squeaked loudly as he flopped into it, and his computer whirred to life as he brushed his finger over a thumb print scanner.

When his desktop came up, he eyed two programs. The first was the standard, grinning yellow face Pesterchum. 

The second was an orange face with his glasses and a straight line for a mouth. This program was marked 'old life'. He glanced at the front, confirming for himself that every window or possible peek-space was covered, and he took off his glasses, laying them on the desk.

One calloused hand rubbed over his face as his cursor hovered over the program.

"Come on Richard. You're asking for heart break..." But the urge to talk to the people he'd grown up with, in a time that no longer existed for him, was far too great.

Too snaps of the mouse under his palm and Dick had the dark-green program open. A recent upgrade, that skin. Dick had been so nostalgic after the first time he'd spoken to Jake, using this thing, that he'd re-skinned it an hour later.

Four names clung to the side of the program options (standard emotions, with the addition of 'protective', 'proud', 'nostalgic' and 'lonely'. No one in his timeline would ever know he'd lost all his cool, raising his kid.) Timelines for those four other people sat in the main window, with slider bars. He imagined the trolls had a set up similar to this. He set the program to 'lonely', cringing at it. Hopefully no one on the other end would have the ability to read that emotion.

The cursor hovered over 'golgolathsTerror' as he considered messaging him.

That is until a pistol shot rang through the headphones on his desk, making Dick jump. A window popped up. 

\--golgolathsTerror[GT] began pestering technoRumpus[TR]--

Richard smiled, slightly, typing out the first message in a long trail of them. At least a little bit of his loneliness was relieved, for now.

\--

Dave climbed into his Bro's shitty car and scowled, arms crossed over his chest.

"Sup, little dude?" Dick looked at him through the rear-view.

_The asshole teacher tried to teach religion in class and that was total bullshit._ The boy signed, clearly frustrated. _Then the fuckers in my class made fun of me for needing an interpreter so I punched them and got fucking suspended._

He was startled when his bro parked the car and climbed out, pulling open the door. 

"Out. We're going to go have a word with this bitch," He hissed, pointing to the pavement.

Dave crawled out, reluctant, peering up at his bro under his glasses, gripping his back pack nervously. 

Dick set his hand on Dave's shoulder, guiding the seven year old into the school. At the front desk he flashed a charming smile at the secretary, lifting his glasses to flash his orange eyes at her. 

"I'm looking for Ms. Anderson. Could you get her for me, gorgeous?" A little flirting never hurt anyone. Sure it wasn't something he generally did but if it got things done, he wasn't going to complain too much. Especially when she blushed, nodded, and scooped up the phone like it was the most important thing she could do.

Striders gonna st-no. No he was never going to go there again. There was an age when you had to start acting like a grown up.

He glanced down at Dave. 

The boy was shifting foot to foot, looking worried.

_What's up little man?_

_You seem mad._ His brows were furrowed under his glasses. _I don’t like that look on your face._

_Have I ever done ANYTHING to make you think you'd catch hell for telling the truth?_

Dave shook his head, looking up at bro and frowning.

_Then why start worrying now?_ He turned his attention back to the office, hands on the counter. His face contorted into a glare as the teacher walked in.

"You're not controlling your students?" He narrowed his eyes at the woman, drumming his fingers on the counter. 

"Of course I am. David-lee is out for the week because off his actions today."

"Dave."

"Pardon?"

"Dave. Not David-lee. I didn't name him David-lee. I named him Dave, Jake, Strider. The two names don't hyphen into one first name. You seemed to be referring to my kid by the wrong name, too. What are they paying you for? I get that this is just about as southern as you can get, but I'm not THAT southern and neither is he." He drummed his fingers on the counter once more. "Now, I know my kid has a disability and I asked you all to treat him like a regular student, but for fuck's sake 'treat him the same' means get both sides of the story."

"Your son caused the problem."

"My kid doesn't start fights. If he's thrown a punch he knows damned well that someone else had better have thrown the first one. And another subject I'd like to discuss with you: whatever happened to the separation of church and state? I'm not breaking my back to send my kid to a private school to be taught RELIGION," he growled, low and dark. "I'm paying for him to have a top-rate education." He hefted the seven year old Dave onto his hip and bumped his way past the counter door.

"Point me to the principal little man." He narrowed his eyes at the woman.

Dave's awkward, chicken boned arm('Is he too skinny? Am I feeding him enough? Am I sure he's not sick somehow?) pointed toward a particular door with 'principal' on it. Dave himself knew his bro's question was more for show than Dick’s inability to find the place.

The tall man followed Dave's directions, giving the teacher a judgmental look as he passed her by, going to the man himself. 

An hour’s worth of talking and he hadn't gotten anything out of the man but a headache, and the elder Strider hefted the younger up ( _No dude just no I can walk dude dude!_ ) and left.

When he had Dave seated in the car, back in the back where kids belonged, he started out on the road, finally, seething.

They were half way home when he felt the back of the chair go 'thump', and Dick had to glance at Dave through the mirror, quirking a brow.

"Sup lil dude?"

_I don’t want to go back._

Not when they make fun of me for needing Margret there

It’s beyond not cool Bro.

"Don't let them get to you. Be the bigger dude." He frowned, glancing back at the road, then back to Dave. Oh yeah, they were in the lane, they were safe. He was the best at driving and reading sign language. There was no one better.

_They do it every day though._

"Dude, I get it. But fuck them, Bro. They're just jealous that you have a hot chick following you around. They want a piece of that action just like the rest of the world, and she's all yours, between eight and four."

_You don’t really think she’s hot I know you like boys._

"Off topic little man. The point is you've got a good looking older woman following you around and they don't."

_I don’t want to go anymore, Bro._

This shit sucks.

"Striders don't quit, Dave."

_This Strider does. Fuck you._

"Do you touch your interpreter with those fingers? Potty-hands."

_EW GROSS dude no just_

dude no fuck you.

Seriously.

"Whatever. What do you want for dinner? Pizza or Chinese?"

_Pizzza,_ a pause and then _please can I quit please?_

Dick was silent for a long time, drumming his fingers on the wheel. On one hand, he wouldn't have to pay for hot-lunches. A load off his mind. Leftovers would never go to waste.

On the other hand he'd have to pay closer attention to Dave's grades.

But, he wouldn't get any more of that 'intelligent creation' crap shoved down his poor, broken throat.

"Yeah, sure. But you have to do home-school. Just because you're not there, dun' mean you get to crap out on your grades. I'm not raising a street-rat hellion."

'No, I'm raising a young knight. I'm sending you off to battle after putting a shitty sword in your hand, in round-about six years,' he seethed. 'And I need to know you can handle it so you don't wind up dead somewhere before you know how to handle what you are...'

_Bro, no._

Bro, you’re not making me do that.

"Dave Jake Strider, you're either going to go to that school, or you're going to home-school. Either way, you will not talk back to me."

_I’m not talking back Richard Bartholomew Strider._

"Don't you sass me, Dave." He scowled. "You either do it at home, where you don't need an interpreter, and you have a genius to work with, or you do it at that school and talk through your interpreter. It's your choice, man of the hour."

_Ok fine I’ll do it but I won’t like it._

"It's not about whether or not you like it. It's about those visitations from Social Services that Jenkins from 4B threatens us with every time I keep you home when you're sick. Woman's crazy. You doing the school thing is the difference between a crappy apartment with someone who gives a shit about you and a crappy house stuffed with crappy kids and foster parents collecting a check." He glanced in the mirror. "Trust me Dave, neither of us want that. I worked too hard to let some shitty family take you the way they took me." It had been a nightmare. Something he didn't want to revisit.

God damn he missed Jane. She'd hug him and tell him he was doing a 'darned tootin' good job' and make him feel better about all of this. She'd sit Dave down and make him do the work and he wouldn't argue with her. 

Dave looked like he was going to argue further, for a moment, then heaved a sigh and signed at him again.

_Alright, Bro I hear you._

No fighting you on the schooling or a bitch with a phone and a son in social services gets her nose all up in our business like a drug dog all up in our asses looking for contraband.

"How's pepperoni with a side of handwriting, and math for dessert?" He wanted to be past this argument. It was the furthest from anything he wanted to think on. Maybe Jake would be online so he could clear his head with some pan-universal flirting. That always helped.

Dave rolled his eyes and bro quirked a brow.

"Or we could have extravaganza with tenth grade biology. Your choice."

_I hate you so much right now. Handwriting and Pepperoni._

"Love you too, kiddo." 

\--gutsyGumshoe[GG] began pestering technoRumpus[TR]

GG: Jake says you're a version of our Di Stri. 

GG: That you need a shoulder.

GG: If this isn't a trick you're trying to pull on us, you should know...

GG: It doesn't matter where you are, what universe you're in, we're here for you. I don't know what happened to us, if we're not there with you, but maybe I don't want to.

GG: Even if this is a prank, I'm proud to call you my friend.

GG: See you around, Di Stri.

\--gutsyGumshoe[GG] ceased pestering technoRumpus[TR]--


	5. Public school is shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for the short chapter. This one's just setting up the next one, and another later on down the line, and aside from being a similar subject to the next, doesn't fit well with the chapter 5. Sorry.

When he started home-schooling Dave, he brought the boy down to the shop, eyeing him to keep him on task while he was working, screwing a fan into his computer on the counter in front of him. Dave was crosslegged a few feet away with a math text book in front of him while Dick did his best to multitask, leaning over occasionally to check the seven year-old's work.

The shop's phone rang and they both jumped. Dick sighed and gave Dave a soothing pat to the shoulder.

_Hold on. I've got to find out what this ass needs._

_fuck them you promised you were going to work on algebra with me today_

_It's five minutes. Chill out little man._

Dick waved him off, reminding him that the yearly visit from their worker-then maybe some other nosey adults, was coming up as he snatched the phone off the cradle.

"Strider's Electronics. Richard Strider speaking. How might I help you."

"Mister Strider, you pulled David from school." A female voice growled out through the static on the line.

"Hello Melinda, How are you today? Lovely. Us? Oh, we're fine, coming down with a case of 'cold heartless bitch' but aside from that, I'm just helping Dave with his math while I work. Oh, before you ask, I signed him up for a perfectly respectable home-school program."

"Richard, this isn't a laughing matter."

"Do I sound like I'm laughing, Melinda? I'm more than capable of taking care of my business AND my kid. I'm twenty-four, Melinda,"

"And how are you managing to take care of him? Are you running between the shop and your apartment? Or perhaps you're leaving him to his own devices?"

Dick wandered to the back of the shop, holding a finger up to Dave as he moved, making sure dave couldn't eaves drop.

"You don't listen do you? I own my own business, free and clear. I'm just that good. I've got an off the charts I.Q. I own our apartment, which, while it's tiny, is perfectly liveable and comfortable. Yes, there are toys everywhere, but what are you going to do? He's seven?" well, they were Richard's puppets but who was he to split hairs when he was trying to make a point. "I'm capable of taking care of my son, of teaching him everything he needs to know-from rudimentary English to self defence. I've had six and a half years of being a parent. I took two years of parenting classes. I've taken father-son ASL classes. And family bonding is a non-issue since we live in close quarters and are all up in each other's business twenty-four hours a day." he scowled into his phone then carried on in a more dramatic tone. "You and your social worker ways, bent on proving me to be a horrible person who won't watch Sesame Street if my kid wants me to? God Melinda. What else is there for me to do? How do I prove to you shits that I don't need babysitting?"

"What about the last time I was visiting and he was watching restricted channels? What happened then?"

"He's a smart kid. He hacked the cable and gave us more channels. In my defence I installed a V-Chip and he hacked that too. He learns pretty quick." He shrugged, scowling as Dave scooted down the counter to take over his computer, and rubbed his forehead when both Pesterchum and Paint were opened up. At least the kid was entertained. "Fine, Strider. Tell me why you pulled David then?"

"Oh god. First: His name isn't David. Check out his records. He's legally 'Dave Jake Strider'. Second, his teacher was trying to convince him that humans were intelligently designed. Let's face it. we weren't." Dick said nonchalantly.

"Oh god, you're kidding. That can't be the reason. Quit playing around, Strider. This is serious business."

"I never kid around where Dave is concerned. It gets worse. the kid was being hassled for his differences-which some may call a disability but I honestly don't see it having hampered his life at all. He's quick witted and brilliant, but he takes emotional bombardment easy. He's a sweet kid. Most smart kids actually are. You should have seen the look on his face when I said 'no' at first. You'd think he was being physically hurt." he sighed, leaning against a wall. "Worse, still: He was being hassled for having his mom follow him around the school."

"I don't see how that's a problem. He could have ignored them." Melinda stated, exasperated.

"He doesn't have a mom" Strider said, biting his cheek before carrying on with the practiced response. "Look, Melinda. He asked about his mom years ago, and I couldn't lie to him. His mom handed him to me the day he was born and said 'You do it. I don't fucking want it.'" he ground his teeth, glaring at one of the towers in front of him. "The bitch didn't want him. I wasn't going to tell him 'your mom died in a horrible accident.' Because as much as you'd think I wish that shit happened to her for doing that to our kid, I don't wish death on anyone. I've lost too many people in my short life to want to see anyone else tied to me pass."

"I meant the religious teachings in school." She hissed, and he could practically hear her rubbing her forehead. "You can't be serious. You have no religious beliefs?"

"Melinda, if we were created intelligently we'd all have flying cars and Brussels sprouts wouldn't taste like ass cleverly disguised as a leafy green vegetable." he huffed. "Commercial space travel would be a thing that exists and pizza would be a vegetable. You could grow it on a plant in your house. We're not intelligently designed. Shit that would be infinitely useful just doesn't exist."

"I don't understand how you're serious. Religion is an import-"

"I don't care what you personally believe. You're welcome to your own opinions, but religious education or lack thereof is still in the hands of parents and guardians as far as I'm concerned so it doesn't have bearing on your decisions here. My general point is: I don't agree with the education he was receiving, and even if I did I wouldn't have him learning it in a place where he's being bullied to the point where he couldn't actually absorb anything." As he directed his attention to the dinging bell, a customer walked in. He bit his teeth to keep from cursing as a man with a fedora and a pipe stepped in. 

"Mister strider i-"

"Can we do this later, Melinda? As much as I love hearing your gorgeous voice telling me what a shitty dad I am, I have a customer and I have to earn some bread and meat for my darling, 'disabled' albino child. goodbye." he clicked the line shut and darted to the front, crossing the shop in a flash step, setting a hand on Dave's shoulder. "Go to the back, kiddo. Bro's got business with the asshole in white" he glared at the man in his pressed business shirt and white slacks, hefting Dave from the counter to the ground, pointing toward the back.


	6. The Batterwitch is real, Fuck you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this sitting in my note book as "chapter six" for a long time... It's short, but I feel like the boys dont' deserve to have their first sleep over rained on by drama queens.

As the boy walked away, Richard paced toward the stranger, lifting his chin to emphasize the differences in their heights. Strider was nearly a head taller than this man.

 

"Solomon Vantas. What brings your pasty, pink, tobacco stained fingers and teeth to my nearly pristine workshop this fine February morning?" he queried, hands sliding into his pockets, narrowing his eyes at the man.

"Checking in on you, Richard." The smaller man frowned, peering around the shop. "Why isn't David in school?"

"First the interpreter, now you. Religious differences, bullies, and idiots. Take your hat off, too, Saul-my-boy. Jane taught you better than to leave that shitty fedora on in-doors."

"Richard, respect your elders."

"Solomon, I ask the same of you. You're a true born. I was made before the creation of this universe. Respect your demigods. Speaking of; where's your charge? Did you abandon HIM to child services too? Or are you being a good parent, flying back first-class, snooty, warm-blanketed and well fed as soon as this conversation is finished, juuuuuuuuuuuust in time for him to finish classes for the day?" Dick sank as much venom in as he could, dripping and emersing his voice in all the loathing he'd built up for the son of his now long dead friend.

"He's at the hotel. I pulled him for a family reunion."

"So we're a family now? I didn't get that memo." Richard seethed, leaning down to leer at him. "Pardon me while I die of a heart attack. Take care of baby-strider when I'm gone-Oh, wait. You abandon striders. I miraculously pulled through. Praise be to trolls." he snarled, lips pulled back. "I wasn't good enough for you to give the time of day when I was a kid, what the blistering infected fuck changed that in seventeen years? Forget you tossed me at the authorities like a dad playing hot potato with a dirty diaper. You're offering me a load of shit here, Solomon. She was my mom too! AND my friend! One of my best friends! One of the few people I could turn to and I was so scared when she started getting weak! You didn't even give me a fucking chance to say goodbye. You just fucking TOOK THAT." Dick shouted, winding up, feeling tears in his eyes. Not cool. Striders didn't lose their cools like that.

"Are you finished?"

"NO. Fuck no." He needed to go on. he needed to get it out. "I could have helped. I could have figured something out to help her get around. I could have prevented her dying in that fucking explosion!"

"The batterwitch isn't real in this world, Dick."

"SHE EXISTS IN EVERY WORLD. You didn't sit with her and listen? She was always talking about the batterwitch, and how she was raised by a horrible woman. Open your ears, Solomon. The signs are all there." he snapped. "Jake didn't need my help-as much as I'd have rather protected and gone to help him. I could have helped Jane. He TOLD ME to help Jane! She wasn't perfect, she was a trickster, and a brat, but she was a good friend, and my first MOM and you took her from me! You had the funeral without me! YOU TOOK HER FROM ME!" tears were spilling on his cheeks. He was embarrassing himself, and he knew the little man could see. But he couldn't stop. "You left me with no one but Lalonde, which is fine. I've been on that boat. Pale mates forever. But I never got a letter from Crocker. Or a call. Any sign that she cared. Why is that? Wasn't that I was hopping homes. Lalonde managed to shove her soggy nose into every home I was in to ruffle my hair every year on every holiday she thought you could drink on and not be judged."

"Her hands hurt. She couldn't hear!"

"I call BULLSHIT."

"Richard-"

"Solomon. Your kid is welcome in my home, I'll let Kaat in, any time, but if you EVER step within two feet of my doorway yourself, you'll meet the business end of a katana and guess what, I'm pretty sure that's legal here." 

Solomon cringed, backing up.

"If I thought--"

"You didn't, Saul. You were busy thinking about yourself. Fuck yourself.  You'll drop Kaat off here tonight. You'll pick him up from here tomorrow."

"Richard, you're being unreasonable."

Strider closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"You're a good parent for him. I'm sure. You'll love and support him. You'll feed his obesessions. You'll tend to his needs, you'll accept him." He opened his eyes, fixing a glare on the man. "But when the game starts, you do as Roxy and I do. And you will NEVER step inside my shop uninvited AGAIN." he snarled, pointing to the door.

"If that's how you feel."

"Of course it's how I feel."

"But it's getting to a point where we need to coordinate."  Vantas tried, and Strider glared at him.

"Going to get together with Beck, and Roxy's liquor cabinet? Ask the dog how it's training Harley, how the bottles think Rosie's doing?"

"You really think?"

"She's my moirail. I really think she's trying her best but someone cut her off from a good thing too soon." 

"Richard, I'm sorry." Solomon sighed. "I fucked up."

"You did. Yeah."

"I'll make it up to you."

"Like I said. Drop the kid off here tonight. Pick him up tomorrow. Introduce Kaat and Dave before the game. Start them early. Make a foundation. They deserve to know who they're working with."

"I could do that." He said, watching Strider carefully as the taller man wound down and rubbed frustration and years of anger from his eyes.

"You'd better do that." Richard snarled, pointedly ignoring the fact that dave had stepped closer to listen in. "The only thing you've ever been useful for, Solomon, is for protecting the players of the Crocker line. Just the players. No one else. You're a pathetick sack of donkey cock sunk into bullshit wrapped into a gigantic rat's ass, materialized out of who the hell knows where. Go get your fucking charge."

The wind was out of Bro Strider's sails, and Solomon was backing out of his hair, looking confused as to why. 

_bro_

_who the fuck was that_

_and why the fuck are they bringing someone over??_ The younger asked, a series of uncertain signs making the question.

 _Tell ya later._ The elder replied, sighing wearily. 


	7. Cursing just isn't the same on paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter hasn't been beta'd because both my betas are indisposed at the moment.

A sullen looking red head appeared on the shops doorstep as the sun was setting, a large crab plush in his arms and a ball-cap on his head(Seattle Space Needle in blue lettering with the bulding outlined in grey, on a black cap.) and a backpack slung over his right shoulder. He had long sleeves even in the Texas heat, and loose jeans. Watery grey eyes met amber through black lenses, throwing the adult off.

"You must be Kaat." Dick said, peering at him curiously.

The boy huffed, lifting his cap off his head a little.

"You're my uncle? Uncle Dick?"

"You can call me Bro. C'mon. You're going to come stay the night with Dave and me upstairs." The man sighed, watching as the boy hiked the bag higher on his shoulder.

"Fine, BRO." The boy rolled his eyes as he stepped aside.

Dick beckoned Dave from the back and watched as his son sidestepped Kaat warily, sizing him up. The red head gave him a similar look, arms hugging the crab he brought with him.

_whats with the doll??_

"I don't know. Let's go upstairs and order some pizza. You're going to have to write. I doubt he can read signlanguage. It's not a thing they teach hearing and speaking kids." Looking at Kaat was almost painful. The freckles, the shape of his eyes and curve of his brow-or what would be the curve of his brow, if he wasn't scowling. Even the shape of his nose was painfully similar to jakes. He imagined if the boy were to open his mouth into a smile he'd have the same large teeth, full lips... Strider caught himself comparing the amount of freckles before he could stop himself and shook his head before turning and locking the door, taking both boys by the shoulder, and leading them up the apartment building's stairs.

Kaat's surly disposition was a nice change from Jake's, something that shouted in bolded capital letters 'THIS BOY IS NOT ENGLISH'.

The door swung open and Dave darted inside, giving Dick a glare as he searched out all the legal note pads they had available in the house(something had to be available when they had visitors, after all) and he plopped them down on the futon, pointing from Kaat to the pads as the boy looked up at the elder strider.

"Just drop your shit anywhere, dude. Mi casa es su casa."

The bag found it's home at the end of the futon, beneath Kaat's feet. The boy's shoes were kicked off and tucked away next to it, and he curled around the crab, scowling at the other boy.

"What the bloody fuck do you want?"

The question from earlier was scrawled on the paper in a few short strokes of the pen, unbroken cursive with a pair of question marks, carefully, almost lovingly placed at the end of the phrase.

"It's a fucking pillow. it's big enough to be a pillow. I've had it for as long as I can remember. Why the fuck can't you talk?"

_i lost my voice_

_why the fuck do you curse so much?? your dad looks like the straightest laced asshole in dipshit land_

"Don't talk about my dad like that, fucktard."

In truth, it was almost comforting that the boy snarled and cursed so much. It reminded him that Jake and Kaat weren't the same person, and weren't going to be the same person in their lifetime.

Richard pulled a mirror from a drawer and set it up next to his monitor, running his trans universal program. It would be easy enough to hold a conversation and keep an eye on the monsters.

Dinner passed with the crusts of pizzas being tossed back and forth like grenades in a war zone, the kitchen table tipped to act as a hiding place for one boy, the other hiding behind the couch. The game ended when Dick had to pry one boy off the other because a wayward pizza crust had crash landed against Vantas's eye-the boy had proceeded to attempt to beat on the blond, only to get pinned to the ground.

It was not the success he was hoping for, but by the end of the evening they seemed to settle into a sort of grudging respect for each other, playing games and exchanging insults over note paper and sound waves with the cutting fluidity.

The elder strider wasn't at all surprised when he came back from the restroom to find them curled up next to each other, remotes still in hand, characters idling on the screen.

"They'll figure it out eventually." Friendship was never a 'hit on the first try' sort of thing. They'd get it... they'd have to.

He draped a my little pony sleeping bag(Unzipped) over Kaat, and a Strawberry Shortcake over Dave, and stepped into his own space, letting himself fall asleep.

\--

Morning came without yelling or fighting, which was nice, because the last thing Dick wanted to do was listen to screeching in his generally quiet apartment.

As he slid out of bed, popped his back, and yawned as quiet as possible, he caught the sound of swords hitting the floor, swears and hissed insults.

"Who the fuck keeps swords in the fridge?--Well that's fucking dumb. Food goes in the fridge. That's why it's cold. Swords don't need to be cold. You can get other storage things for them.--That's not funny. Christ. Stop laughing. Ugh your laugh is dumb.--OW. FUCK WHAT WAS THAT FOR?"

The adult stepped into the room, smirking as he watched his 'son' and his long-dead best friend's heir rough house in the kitchen, chuckling quietly.

"If you wanted food, you could have come and got me." the Elder Strider laughed as he plucked the children apart

"That one there wrote that it would be a HORRIBLE idea to wake you up when you're sleeping." Kaat grumbled, being set down in his chair, while Dave was herded in to his own.

"I'm thinking we either do Ihop for breakfast, or I order in for pizza again. Which sounds best to you runts?"

There was a scribbling sound and the pad of paper was shoved toward Kaat.

vote for the ihop or i will bruise your kneecaps swear to fuck i want pancakes and or waffles so fucking bad right now you have no idea

"Fine fine. you don't have to threaten violence, asshole." Kaat rolled his eyes, sliding out of the chair to get his shoes. "If I come back with syrup in my hair I'll kick your ass."

Dave rolled his eyes as well, sliding out of his chair to go get dressed.

"Looks like that's settled. Everyone to the door with teeth brushed and hands and faces washed. No arguments."


End file.
